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Porn images are everywhere but we need better ways to teach children about love, intimacy and yes, masturbation

At the start of this third millennium, sex seems to be all around us – within easy reach, on our screens, constantly talked about in the media. What used to be concealed, shameful and forbidden only a century ago is today regarded as evidence of progress in the freedom of thought. Artists use sex to push the limits of creativity: Paul McCarthy’s “butt plug” sculpture, for example, was installed at the Place Vendôme in Paris in 2014, even though it provoked outrage among residents.

The sexual metaphor is ever-present. Paradoxically, however, sex is rarely explained and almost never taught. Do you know how our sexual organs changed when we evolved from animal to human? When did the first couple show up? Where does our sense of modesty come from? Or eroticism? Or love, that most momentous of human concerns? What about our earliest customs? Which ancient civilisation championed equality between men and women? And why was masturbation frowned upon?

Sex is one of those realities that for a long time we neither wanted to see nor hear about. The sexual liberation of the 1970s – which was, in my opinion, the biggest social revolution in the history of humanity – signalled the transition from a traditional male-dominated society to one in which sex with all its nuances could finally be examined openly and understood. But as sex has dared to uncover itself, to live, to speak, we face the challenge of expressing what for so long has been kept under wraps. How are we to communicate what so recently caused so much shock and outrage?

In the west, the union of two individuals is in complete flux, with a drop in those getting married (in France 57% of births now happen outside marriage); same-sex marriage; and the option of “slices of life”, relationships with different partners in the course of a lifetime. But however free our customs may be, censorship persists when it comes to the communication of sex, the words, the particular way of defining sexuality and the idea of sensuality. Literature and fiction have always attempted to push the boundaries of this censorship: in the 18th century we had Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’s Dangerous Liaisons; and in the 21st, EL James’s Fifty Shades of Grey. But mostly our discussions fall somewhere between sincerity and provocation as we attempt to understand intimacy and the fullest expression of sexual pleasure.

No history book will delve too deeply into the sexual realm, yet it’s clear that history is a timeline of instructions and condemnations about sexuality. Each culture, each religion, each era has defined its own normality.

But without learning the history of love and intimacy, how can we understand the extraordinary evolution in customs that has led us from an existence ordered by family and society, and reinforced by religion, to the freedoms we know today? In his collection of aphorisms, Monogamy, the psychoanalyst Adam Phillips says that “most people would not live as a couple if they had never heard of it”. In this, he is reflecting the artificial nature of our customs and the need for a way to express our thoughts on sex, intimacy and being with other people.

We know today that human sexuality is not innate: it is learned and constructed through the images that society offers us. Even among our cousins, the primates, who live in a natural habitat, sexuality is learned through experience – young monkeys witness the courting and frolicking of the adults. The need for a model is evident: a young chimpanzee isolated from its peers is incapable of mating when it reaches adulthood.

Yet there is a fundamental difference: we invented modesty. Humans always make love away from the group. This is one of the great problems with sexuality: on the one hand it requires education; on the other, culture and religion collude to suppress sexual education.

The physician Thomas Beddoes was probably the first person to teach a course in sex education, complete with public demonstrations on the differences between men and women, in the early 19th century. But in the following two centuries, sex education failed to gain ground. Opposition was widespread and aggressive, on the part of the church as well as among teachers.

But other western countries such as France and the UK provide little more than a perfunctory discourse on contraception and safeguarding against STDs. In France, a 2001 law stipulates three classes of sex education a year in middle and secondary school. However, as teachers have no training in this very particular field, it is often organisations such as those devoted to family planning that ensure these classes go ahead. In most cases, they rarely take place at all, and when they do they are limited to the three Ps: “prevention, pill, protection”, in other words, information on fertility and STDs. In this educational void the internet and porn offer themselves as models.

This is quite evidently the worst possible model, and the reason why a more reliable source of knowledge is indispensable, from primary school through to the last year of secondary. The average age at which children are first exposed to pornography is 11. Such an artificial vision of sex has altered our most intimate behaviour and has become the frame of reference not just for our teenagers but for us all. It makes us ask ourselves: am I sexy enough, am I the best lover?

Nothing could be more damaging than these images devoid of explanation. We can’t stop young people from encountering porn, but a formal, educational approach would allow our society to explain its context and prevent misunderstandings that could otherwise compromise a fragile or still developing personality.

A genuine sex education should take the bio-psychological, emotional and social aspects of sexuality into account, should allow children to understand differences between the sexes, interpersonal relationships, the importance of developing critical thinking, an open mind and respect for the other. We must banish negative terms (sin, adultery, prostitution, Aids and STDs) in favour of positive schooling that allows children to understand desire, pleasure and excitement; the importance of sensitivity in love; the importance of masturbation, even. We must understand that everything can be taught, even the practicalities of how people live together, and we should start in primary school with discussions not only of genital differences but about the variations between boys and girls, the significance of love and of respect that may help with later relationships, notions of gender equality and domestic violence.

Only by speaking frankly, lightheartedly and wide-rangingly about sex, love and intimacy can we provide an education that enables adolescents, both boys and girls, to begin their lives with a better understanding of human relationships.

In short, long distance sucks. It’s the suckiest of all possible sucks, and not always for the reasons you’d expect. You might think you’re going to miss your SO when you’re hanging out with your couple gang, or when you fancy a movie date, and you will, but it will be the moments of frustration — like when you’re trying to put the quilt cover back on — that you’ll find yourself in tears because you miss them so much.

My partner and I are on our second bout of LD. In a way it’s easier than the first time — I know the lonesome drill — and in other ways it’s harder — I thought I’d paid my dues! Here are 28 things you totally know to be true when your SO lives in another city.

You know your best FaceTime angle and where in your house has the best lighting. Especially important if you’re going to be talking after you’ve washed your face.

You spend even more time looking at your phone. Who even knew that was possible? You’ve also downloaded 15 new ways of communicating with each other: Words with Friends, WhatsApp, Viber, Facebook Messenger, Pair . . . and if you’re planning a wedding like us: Trello, Google Docs and Evernote.

You feel like you’re in a relationship with your phone. It’s like he actually lives in your phone, because it’s the only place you see him. If you lose your phone, it’s like you’ve killed him.

All your money goes to flights. And you’re booking the cheapest, nastiest airlines so you’re not even accumulating points.

You have a similar dating life to that of the girls on The Bachelor. When the ladies were complaining that it was all or nothing with Richie you could totally relate. When you finally see your SO it’s all fancy dinners, romantic strolls and helicopter rides (OK, maybe not that bit) but then it’s back to the #nunlife.

You can get a bit *cough* lazy with the personal grooming. Are legs really hairy if no one’s there to feel them?

You have about five conversations that are just “checking in” and one during which you download all information and admin. Wake-up call, mid-morning coffee call, lunch call, 3 p.m. call, and the “I’m heading home” call put together don’t run longer than 2.5 minutes. 8 p.m. call goes for an hour.

You enjoy the luxury of more space. In the wardrobe, in the bed, in the kitchen — who knew those stupid protein powders were preventing you from having a teacup collection?!

You devour every girly series he vetoed. You’ve cried your way through the later seasons of Downton Abbey, got into Outlander, devoured every season of Ru Paul’s Drag Race, rewatched Sex and the City — your Netflix has never looked so pink.

You jam-pack your social calendar just to stop yourself feeling lonely. Exhausted and broke is better than lonely, right?

You’re really happy when he’s having a good time without you, but also a teeny bit jealous. Shake it off girl.

Your single mates like you so much more. You can stay out all night because no one’s waiting for you to come home and you’re basically chaste — you’re the ultimate wing-woman.

You go back to having hours-long convos with your girlfriends. You know the kind you had in high school when time seemed to drag on forever? The downside of this is that time seems to drag forever.

You get really good at mingling. Flying solo at a party for the first time in forever will actually make you feel awesome. You’re still fun. People still like you, see? Something you’ll recount to your partner later with the phrase, “I was the life of the party.”

You say “yes” to a lot more. See above. Why would you not go to that Aztec party of a Facebook you forgot you had? You’re the life of the party.

You become more sure of yourself. Jokes aside, it’s a huge confidence boost knowing you don’t need your dude with you to have a good time. You’re together because you want to be, not because you need to be. *sings “Independent Woman”*

Time differences become your enemy. People will think you’re being a pathetic but even half an hour is annoying.

Podcasts are your friend. Because your transit time is at an all-time high.

You count down days like a kid waiting for Christmas. You literally mark them off the calendar like you’re in a ’90s Disney movie. Where did you even find a calendar?

You get butterflies in your stomach when you’re about to see him. You’d kind of forgotten what it was like to be so nervous and excited at the same time.

You get to discover another city. You’re going there so much that you learn where all the good cafes and bars are, and become a bit of an expert.

People totally get it when you say you can’t do something because your SO is in town. The most you’re going to hear out of anyone that weekend is a love-heart emoji on your Insta pic. They’re just happy you’re together!

You experience the most severe Sunday blues known to man. Your time together is over and it’s as if a group of Dementors have arrived for a sleepover.

You do a lot more communicating. It’s all you’ve got, babe!

You become more thoughtful. Because you know that a little note in his suitcase will brighten his whole day.

You begin to appreciate him a lot. When you’re in each other’s face it’s easy to start taking each other for granted, but with a little distance you see, he’s amazing.

You learn a lot more about yourself. If for no other reason than you’re spending a lot more time solo, making all the decisions. And yes, you do think a bowl of steamed broccoli followed by a block of Lindt chocolate is an adequate dinner.

Your relationship will be stronger than ever. This is how I see it: when you start doing LD your relationship is like Goku, going into the Gravity Chamber to begin his training. It’s tough and at times he wants to go back to how things were, but he carries on and eventually he becomes super saiyan (blonde) and basically invincible.

If Dragon Ball Z references are wasted on you, I’m basically saying, if you can make it through long-distance, you can make it through anything.

“But for me, it was all about reproduction and a man and a woman. That’s the bit that is easy to talk about. It’s fact.”

In modern educational materials however, real people would not be shown posing nude, says Caroline.

“We would show diagrams, rather than the real thing.”

1980s

This film, which depicts a naked man on a beach, is the other one to feature full nudity.

It depends on the context, Caroline says, but seeing real-life naked bodies can serve a really useful educational function.

“If we’re showing people what STIs, for example, look like. How do they know what private parts look like without those STIs, if we only ever show them ones with?”

Like other films, it focuses on committed relationships.

“It’s all about making love. That’s what we would want to promote but that’s not always the case for people,” says Caroline.

1990s

Caroline says in her classes she talks about all the different words which people use to describe sex and the body, including slang for the genitals.

“You can use those words,” she tells the students.

“But you need to know the proper words as well because if you’re going to talk to a doctor, you need to know what they’re saying back to you.”

Again, this video would not fit with “inclusive” modern sex education, Caroline explains.

“I did like that they talked about pleasure. It’s the first time in these videos they talked about it, for both a man and a woman.”

She adds: “It’s really important that it’s taught with a positive attitude. We don’t want scare messages.”

Nowadays

The sexual health charity Caroline works for, Brook, goes to in one in 10 UK schools to teach SRE.

“Brook believes SRE should start early in childhood so that children and young people learn to talk about feelings and relationships from a young age and are prepared for puberty before it happens,” they said in a statement.

“As children get older, we advocate SRE focusing on the positive qualities of relationships, such as trust, consent, body-positivity, commitment and pleasure.

“We also discuss the different forms relationships and sexuality can take.

“In addition to this, we also believe in ensuring that SRE is relevant and appropriate to the lives of young people so that it relates to other issues such as mental health, sexting, porn and staying safe online.”

But if you’re man enough to do it and still call yourself straight, be man enough to talk about it

Labels are important. They help us. They can protect us. Labels tell you that there are baked beans in the tin you’re holding; labels warn us not to wash our merino sweater above 30 degrees. We trust labels, because without them, we’d get it wrong. But sometimes, labels don’t work – they are derogatory or incorrect or unwelcome. One part of society where labels are changing is within sexuality and gender. As the landscape expands from straight/gay and man/woman to include bisexuality, queerness and trans people, among others, many are finding themselves moving away from the specific, restrictive pigeonholing a label can bring and merely tagging themselves “Me”.

But what happens when you’re happy with the label society has assigned you, but quite fancy trying out something someone like you doesn’t normally do, or what if you start to travel down one path, only to find you prefer another, and want to change course and stay on it for ever? Do you have to re-label yourself? Does it mean you’re not who you thought you were? Is it time to mute whichever episode of Stranger Things you’re watching, stand up, tell the room you dreamt another man’s erection touched you and have an identity crisis? In short: if you’re straight but have sex with another guy, does it make you gay?

It rather depends on what you think being gay means. For most people, ask what “gay” means to them and, if we’re talking about guys, they’ll say a man who has sex with other men. And this, of course, is a huge part of being gay. But the reduction of gayness to be nothing more than just sex can not only be counter-productive – as in, uptight straight guys are missing out on something quite spectacular – and, frankly, homophobic, but it’s also plain wrong.

You know when you see a kid acting or talking a certain way and you think, “they’re gay” or “they’ll be gay when they’re older” – how do you explain that? They don’t even know what sex is yet, straight or gay. The feelings “gay” children have and the character traits they display can’t be boiled down to some potential gay sex they may or may not be having 10 or 15 years down the line – that’s gayness right there, already in play. Whether you believe in nature or nurture or any other theory, there’s more to being gay than just shagging another guy.

So if we remove the label of “gay” from sex acts we traditionally assume are only the domain of gay men, does this mean you can take part in them and still be straight? Where do we draw the line? Getting a blow job from a guy, for example, is something a lot more straight men have experienced than the stony faces down at the Dog and Gun might have you believe. Is it less gay if there’s no mutual contact of genitals? Because it’s passive? A service, almost?

James, 28, says he regularly got blowjobs from a gay pal in his teens, but he doesn’t consider himself gay. “Me and my mate would fool around but mainly he would do it to me,” he explains. “I wasn’t as interested in his cock as he was in mine, but I think we both got something out of it.” If there’s one thing hormone-frazzled 17-year-old boys aren’t getting anywhere near enough of as they want, it’s oral sex. “I didn’t have a girlfriend yet and my mate was just discovering his sexuality and wanted to try. I always made it clear we weren’t in a relationship and that nobody should know. But I didn’t feel guilty and I think he was cool with it.”

You could argue that there was an element of exploitation to James’s relationship with his mate. The friend was finding his feet with his sexuality and James was the willing guinea pig – as long as nobody found out – but if you’re encouraging a gay man to perform fellatio on you, aren’t you gay? “I’ve never been with a man since and I’m happily married now. I doubt I’d do it again as that would mean being unfaithful, but I consider myself straight. It’s fine to experiment; it’s a big part of finding out who you are.”

And what about when contact with another man happens as part of your relationship? Mark, a 28-year-old investment banker had already had one skirmish with a gay guy when his colleague’s boyfriend came on to him in a club bathroom and went down on him – real life really is stranger than soap opera – but his second time was a different matter altogether. His girlfriend was there.

“I was in the couples room at Torture Garden [a fetish club in London] and a stranger gave me a blowjob,” Mark explains. “I was there with my girlfriend at the time and we’d both got pretty wild.”

So why stop at a blowjob and not take it further? When in Rome, and all that. “I just didn’t really feel the desire to f*** him. I suppose it’s possible I might go further one day but I think it’s very unlikely. I almost never think men are attractive.”

But if you’re involving a third person in your hitherto straight sex life, does this mean either you or your partner is bisexual? For Mark, it’s not a concern. “Why do I continue to identify as straight? I suppose it’s because I couldn’t imagine myself having a relationship with a man. In the same way I have gay friends who’ve f***ed women, but would never identify as bi, or worry they’re straight.

“I think that ‘being gay’ or ‘being straight’ is about much more than some sexual contact.”

So a BJ is a BJ, but what about when things go further? Is the threshold for gayness actual penetration? Surely, if you’re having anal sex with a man, you’re gay, no? That’s what the guys in the locker room would say, right?

Thinking about having sex with a man isn’t a sign you’re gay yourself, no more than idly imaging pushing your evil boss under a truck means you’re a latent homicidal maniac. Sometimes, though, even if you’ve never imagined it, when the opportunity presents itself, a primal instinct takes over, as videographer Zak, 25, discovered.

“I’d never really thought about being bi or gay, he explains. “I’d only ever been with girls and had never really been sexually attracted to any guys.

“When I was 20 a load of our sixth form year got together for a party. George was a guy from my year I’d known fairly well but never been close to. We were both fairly drunk and I remember just feeling happy to see him for the first time in ages and for some reason, knowing he was gay, I kissed him rather than hugging him. We chatted for a bit and then we both carried on with the night – not really thinking much about it.”

So far, so straight – no need to adjust any labels so far. Everyone is as they should be.

Zak continues: “Later on, we were both alone on the landing and he kissed me again. This time, for some reason, I didn’t really stop him and before long we were fully making out – we snuck into one of the bedrooms and one thing led to another.”

But was this a harrowing experience? Was there much soul-searching or did Zak just have a blast?

“I did enjoy myself. I suppose I’m quite a sexually liberal person and didn’t really think of it as being ‘gay’, it was just was fun and at the time I was enjoying it.”

The ability to distance oneself from any gayness of a sex act perhaps comes from how it plays out. Who shags who, who touches what – that kind of thing. Like James getting a BJ from his pal, Zak’s mate was also providing a service of sorts, but Zak was an active participant. “We had sex, both oral and anal,” says Zak. “I ‘topped’ [the other guy played a passive role and ‘received’], I don’t think I’d have been comfortable with it the other way around.”

It’s not uncommon for straight men who have sex with another man to experience “gay panic” and feel guilty about what they’ve done and what it means. This can, on occasion, lead to persecution of, or violence against the other guy, whether he’s gay or also straight. But Zak remains unfazed about the experience.

“I wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed,” he says. “I still identify as straight and don’t think I’d initiate something with a bloke, but put in the same situation I could see myself doing it again.”

Some guys might worry that they were gay – and if you’re wondering why anyone would “worry” about such a thing, do take a moment to research how gay men and women are treated across the world – but Zak takes a more relaxed approach.

“One of my uni friends described himself as ‘hetero-flexible’ and I reckon that’s probably where I am at too,” says Zak. “I don’t think repeating it would make me ‘gay’. I’m not attracted to them but I can appreciate men who are attractive. In the same way I’ve slept with women in the past who I don’t think I was really attracted to, sometimes sex is just sex and it’s fun.”

And Zak’s right, sex is just sex. It’s common for gay people, when they first come out, to say their sexuality doesn’t define them, that there’s more to them than simply being gay. It’s all part of the process of recognizing your sexual orientation and assert yourself as an individual, not part of some flock or movement. It’s the vestigial feelings of shame that coming out is supposed to eradicate, hanging on for dear life. “I’m not like the others,” they think. Most of us get over it eventually and reconcile with the fact we’re gay, but this refusal to define can, in some cases, be a positive thing – a defiance of society’s boring old norms. As long as it’s used constructively and positively, and not homophobically of course.

You as an individual get to decide how you label your sexuality, if at all. As long as nobody’s feelings are getting screwed over, you’re free to have sex with men or women at will and still call yourself straight.

But it’s worth acknowledging that you’re merely a tourist and all the privilege this gives you. You get all the pluses of gay sex – and they are pluses, admit it, you love it – but, as long it’s kept on the downlow, none of the prejudice and pressures the LGBT community faces apply to you. You get to dip in, and out, with little or none of the comeback.

Labels inform and warn and categorize, but they also help us come to terms with who we are. A label can be something to cling to, to identify with, to make us feel safe, to tell the world what we’re about.

Avoiding them altogether is brave, choosing one and then flouting the conventions of it could be braver still, but living with a label 24/7 and taking all the consequences it throws at you is perhaps the bravest path of all. And those repercussions can be noxious: LGBT people are discriminated against, mocked, beaten and murdered, all for doing things you get to do without question. Just for being.

Having sex with a man doesn’t mean you’re gay, definitely not. You get to be who you want to be. But don’t forget the sacrifices your gay brothers make on a daily basis so you can have that freedom to choose. You get to go back to your privileged status in the world – we can only be us.

“Gay” sex acts aren’t something to be ashamed of; if you’re man enough to do it and still call yourself straight, be man enough to talk about it. Don’t let it be a dirty little secret; own your sexuality – whatever it may be – with pride.

Name: Shauna
Gender: Female
Age: 38
Location: Des Moines, IA
I work with this really terrific girl, who’s around 10 years younger than I am. Lately, even though I am happily married, I find myself awkwardly attracted to her. I am actually masturbating while fantasying about her. Like I said, I am married to a great guy and I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to get advice on this. I’m so confused.

Anytime there is a noticeable change in one’s eroticism, regardless at what stage of life it happens, the shift can be a bit disconcerting. Here you are, a mature, confirmed, card-carrying straight married lady who has an unanticipated crush on a much younger female coworker. That can’t be sitting very well in your buttoned down world there in the heartland, huh?

I suppose you could view this as a major problem or you could accept this as a gift. That’s right, a gift. This surprising event, even at your seriously advanced age of 38, indicates to me that you’re still growing. Personally, I think that’s wonderful. The fates have gifted you with this sweet, young sexy female muse. You can either reject the fates and deny yourself, or embrace this opportunity to explore the yet uncharted areas of your sexuality.

Even if you never act on your same-sex sexual impulses, I think it’s safe to say you are finally encountering your latent bisexuality. Don’t be too surprised by that; most all of us are naturally bisexual in one fashion or another. Unfortunately, our sex-negative society discourages and disallows these very natural tendencies. So when they pop up, as often they do, we are usually unprepared to acknowledge them, let alone accept and welcome them. Will you cave to the pressures of the popular culture, or buck the social trend? I’m in no position to guess. All I know is that this relatively benign sexual adventure could be an opportunity to expand your sexual options.

Like I said, there are several ways to proceed. You could deny yourself the adventure and sublimate your desires. I don’t recommend this, because it rarely works. Healthy, natural feelings like the ones you’re having can fester and embitter the one practicing the self-denial. Another option is to go with the fantasy, enjoy it for what it is worth. Keeping your bisexual proclivities fantasy material allows you to remain safe and pretty much maintains the status quo. Then there’s the option of pursuing your fantasy and making it a reality. Obviously, this option carries the greatest potential for disrupting your life.

If you choose the path of keeping your bisexual urges a fantasy, you might want to pursue them to see if you are attracted to other women. You could do this through reading some hot lezzi-themed erotica, or checkin’ out some swell (authentic) Sapphic porn. If you discover you are not interested in other women, but that you only have a jones for your charming coworker of yours; you may be a situational bisexual. Regardless if you are a “real” bisexual or a “situational” bisexual, imagine the fun you’ll have with your little secret. My only caution would be to treat your coworker the way you would treat any other coworker you might have a crush on — the best thing to do is; do nothing. Workplace flings, of any stripe, rarely turn out happily. And of course, you also have your marriage to consider. Fantasies are fine as long as they don’t fuck up your real-life relationships.

One other thing, don’t automatically assume your husband would be put off by your newly awakened sexual tastes. That is if you ever get around to telling him. It might actually be a big turn-on for him too. Most straight guys get off on the idea of two women together. Some husbands encourage their wives’ occasional bisexual encounters for this very reason. Your husband may even be interested in a threesome with you and another woman somewhere down the line. Again I advise that it not your coworker, though.

In the end, this is an exciting time for you, Shauna. Is it challenging? You betcha! But it’s also very rewarding.